Revenge of the jedi
by Darklordofthedarkside
Summary: After the escape from Cloud City, Vader keeps plotting against the Emperor and trying to get Luke to help him, Leia gets drawn into the plight of the surviving Alderaanians, Han hangs on Jabba's wall, and Luke leaves the squadron to be a full-time Jedi.
1. Chapter 1

Darth Vader had not, from any point of view, killed Anakin Skywalker.

He often wished that he had. Instead, as he knew perfectly well, that part of himself had been defeated, never destroyed.

At first, it seemed to be constantly shrieking at him -- what am I doing oh Force what am I doing what I am doing? It had taken him years to silence the voice of his weaker self, and even now, it would sometimes cost him a moment's hesitation as he went about his duties. But Anakin Skywalker meant nothing to him -- he was a weak, mewling prisoner who occasionally rattled the bars of his cage and shouted at his captor. Nothing more.

Yes, Vader claimed pieces of Anakin's life as his own, but that, he felt obscurely, was part of his victory. Everything that had been Anakin's was now Vader's by right: his faith, his past, his powers.

Time passed, and the name Skywalker lost all meaning for him. His triumph was complete.

Then he saw the plans for the Emperor's newest toy.

"The Death Star isn't merely a battle station," Tarkin told him. "It will be the size of a moon, and have sufficient firepower to destroy planets."

He was Darth Vader. His capacity for horror had long since shrunk to nothing; he had not thought that anything could even dismay him. But this --

Billions of Imperial subjects. Loyal Imperial subjects, most of them, innocent of any wrongdoing. Meaningless slaughter, loss of life, waste of resources. Clumsy and random too, a blaster aimed at planets. Their own planets. Not the way of the Force. Foolish. Anathema.

Vader may have been obliged to purify the Order of the treasonous and unworthy, but he remained a Jedi, a servant of the Force. For the first time in fifteen years, he was in undivided agreement with himself.

This thing is an abomination.

"Lord Vader?"

"I was not aware that the Rebellion controlled any entire system," said Vader.

He had not thought he would ever be grateful for the mask, either.

No, he did not approve of the Death Star. But in the end, it made little difference. He knew his duty -- not to the Emperor, who he had despised for years and hated for years before that, nor to the simpering sycophants who filled the court and the higher ranks of the military. Vader's loyalty was to the Empire, as it had always been. He did what was necessary -- whatever was necessary.

So he stepped on board the station, and did not execute any of the heretical fools who willingly served there. Admiral Motti didn't count. Vader had no intentions of killing him, on that occasion. Motti presumed to question the will of the Force, to doubt its power. He had to be punished.

Vader permitted Motti to live. He deferred to Tarkin, as much as he was capable of deferring to anyone. He interrogated Princess Leia. He listened to her lie. While he elected not to enlighten Tarkin on that point, his silence served no purpose. Alderaan burned.

Tarkin was a Force-blind fool, whose allegiance to the Empire sprang out of nothing more than a desire to wreak havoc across the galaxy. Naturally, he felt nothing. Palpatine must have sensed it, but if he had ever concerned himself with the good of the Empire, that time was long past. He, too, would have felt nothing.

Darth Vader had killed more men than he had bothered to count, but always for a purpose. Not like this. The anguish of billions screamed through his mind and his lungs struggled for the next breath. In that moment, Anakin thought the respirator had failed, and he was finally (free) dying. His mechanical fingers dug into Princess Leia's shoulder.

Then the screams died away and he heard nothing but his own breath, once more steady and controlled. The respirator had recovered from its momentary lapse, and he was himself again.

Vader stared down at the remnants of Alderaan and supposed that the Emperor considered this a reasonable way to keep order. It was certainly true that Palpatine had never concerned himself with anything other than acquiring as much power as possible, but once, he had at least been shrewd and pragmatic with it -- a competent despot if never a benevolent one. In recent years, however, he had grown careless, foolish. Now, it had reached the point where he thought to strengthen the Empire by turning valuable systems to rubble.

Vader did not believe that Palpatine had turned senile in the usual manner. But apathy and complacency had taken their toll on his once-impressive will. That much would be contemptible in anyone, but it was deplorable in those who thought to harness the power of the Force. The Emperor, of all people, could ill-afford it; sunk as he was in the Dark Side, any weakness left him vulnerable to its ravages. Whatever shreds of reason he retained would soon be gone.

Vader had always meant to overthrow him, when the time was right. That time, he decided, was rapidly approaching. He had only to find a way. Unfortunately, Palpatine's powers had not vanished with his competence, and even Vader's were not quite sufficient to overcome him.

The right opportunity would present itself, he knew with all the clairvoyance at his command. Not in the distant future. Soon. He need not bide his time much longer. But at present, the Force told him to watch, and wait.

When the moment arrived, Vader would be ready. For now, he bowed to the dictates of lesser men, and left to defend the Death Star from the Rebels' assault.

He might have disapproved of the Death Star and the nonsensical slaughter of billions of citizens, but it was still an Imperial station. He knew his duty. So he planned for a future without war, chaos, or needless destruction -- or Palpatine -- and shot down every Rebel pilot he saw.

Only one provided any significant challenge -- one who shone like a small star as he hurtled through the trench. Vader was somewhat less than surprised, and almost regretted his obligation to bring the pilot down. Naturally, the Force sought the Death Star's destruction, and would inevitably achieve it -- but not, if Vader had anything to say about it, today.

In the event, he didn't, if only because another Rebel darted in out of nowhere and sent Vader's TIE fighter spinning into space. A few seconds later, the Death Star exploded and another million deaths reverberated through the remains of Vader's body. He collapsed.

It took him some time to return to Imperial Center and a month more to wholly recover. Afterwards, he pursued the Force-sensitive pilot with single-minded purpose. His efforts did not go unrewarded. Within a year, he had acquired the pilot's name in the course of conversation with a captured Rebel.

At first, Vader felt only surprise -- a surprise so great that he accidentally broke his prisoner's neck. It was a pity, he thought distantly; the creature might have had more information. Then he realized exactly what had just shocked him.

Skywalker.

It was his name. His former name, that was -- but the name of those who shared his blood. They had always been strong in the Force; it was unlikely, but not beyond the realm of coincidence, that the young Rebel pilot might be some sort of distant cousin. It had to be that. He'd only ever had two nearer connections amongst his kin, his mother and his son. The former had died near her home, the latter with his Jedi abductor.

He'd buried Shmi's body behind the homestead, carved her name in Basic and then in the Alsaraic characters she'd laboured to teach him, and added the dates that marked the beginning and end of her life. Shmi Skywalker Lars; Marashmi Adanai. Forty-nine years old. It was a long life for a slave.

Luke, though, had left no body. If Vader had been Force-blind -- perish the thought -- he might even have held out hope. But he'd felt it happen. He'd felt Luke fade into the distance, and then a sudden, sharp weakening, followed by silence.

There hadn't even been a skeleton to bury. There was no grave for Vader's son, dead before his third birthday. If he'd lived, he would be almost a man by now, as their people had measured such things.

The pilot, his captive had mentioned, was now barely nineteen. Just as Luke would have been. But Luke was dead. It must be someone else.

It wasn't. With a birthdate and surname to guide them, his agents had little further difficulty in unearthing the pilot's identity, and every shred of information that could be found about him. Since they valued their lives, they sent the data to him immediately and discreetly.

The pilot was a boy named Luke Skywalker, born on his son's birthday, on the planet where his wife had given birth, raised by Vader's brother and sister-in-law. If any doubts had remained, the accompanying holo would have eliminated them. From the untidy blond hair, to the wide blue eyes and cleft in the chin, the boy's resemblance was unmistakable, both to Vader himself and to the child he remembered.

Luke Skywalker was a Rebel, a traitor, and little more than half-trained, yet the first thing Vader felt was pride. Everyone from Tarkin to the lowest officer onboard had gloried in their blasphemous creation, had blasphemed still further when they declared it invulnerable. Yet their precious Death Star had been brought low by an eighteen-year-old boy with no more knowledge of the Force than the merest novice. By his son. It seemed appropriate.

It was also distinctly satisfying. Luke could know little of their faith and clearly lacked any proper understanding of the Empire, yet he, too, upheld the will of the Force, after his fashion. Vader approved.

After his fashion.

All his plans were now possible; this was the opportunity he had been waiting for. But he would have to gain Luke's allegiance -- which, he acknowledged to himself, would not be an easy task. Rebels were notoriously resistant to persuasion of any kind, and he considered it highly unlikely that Luke would be less so. He was, after all, a Skywalker.

More holos came his way, all of exceptionally poor quality, and mostly of the Rebellion's increased recruitment efforts. Luke appeared in a number of them -- he had apparently acquired what passed for high rank in the Rebellion -- though he generally remained silent and watchful at Princess Leia's side.

Princess Leia. She had been an ally, of sorts, once. She was nothing of the kind any more. Still, when he made out her grainy figure stride alongside his son's, the two of them apparently connected at the hip, he thought of P -- he thought she might be of even greater use to him now than she had been as an Imperial Senator.

Luke could not yet sense anything that happened to her; his powers were still too undeveloped. But Vader had no doubt that his foresight would manifest in his son, or that he would know when it did. And he was accustomed to waiting.

He had not yet decided exactly how to manage the Emperor, when Palpatine himself appeared to demand a report of his progress. Vader grovelled to the best of his ability -- which was not particularly great but seemed to suffice -- and silenced his disgust at the indignity as he silenced all his weaknesses. Kneeling and mouthing pleasantries, after all, provided a few precious moments to collect his thoughts without visible hesitation, and he had never needed the time more.

Within those few seconds, he had made his decision. Luke's loyalties could be dealt with in the future; for now, he had to protect his life.

Vader regretted to say that he had not yet located the pilot, but he could sense that he was growing closer. He was following several promising leads; undoubtedly one of them would turn up the right man. As soon as he identified their enemy with absolute certainty, Vader said, carefully thinking of nothing except his loyalty to the Empire, he would, of course, inform his master.

He lied on that occasion and every occasion thereafter, until it became more prudent to leak the information. The Force assured him that the droid sent to Hoth had, indeed, discovered the Rebel base; Palpatine was now at some distance, and Luke's sympathies the more immediate . . . difficulty. The threat of the Emperor would likely be necessary.

He was, therefore, unsurprised when the Emperor demanded an audience, though the timing was, as always, less than convenient. Vader stopped chasing Rebel ships through the asteroid field and returned to his chambers, dropping to his knees.

Palpatine's twelve-foot hologram flickered to life.

"There is a great disturbance in the Force," Palpatine announced.

"I have felt it," Vader said, truthfully enough. He had felt it for well on two years by now, but the Emperor preferred not to be troubled with trivial details.

"We have a new enemy: the young Rebel who destroyed the Death Star. I have no doubt this boy is the offspring of Anakin Skywalker."

He didn't cherish many doubts about it, himself. However, while it might be amusing to enlighten Palpatine before his death, Vader had no intention of tipping his hand this early.

"How is this possible?" he said flatly. They both knew perfectly well how it was possible that he, a Jedi to this day, could have offspring. Nobody still living knew how that offspring could be alive and well and blowing up space stations.

"Search your feelings, Lord Vader," Palpatine told him. "You know it to be true."

Vader fell silent. He could say nothing that was not false in every way, and he knew from harsh experience that that was rarely a wise approach to take with Palpatine.

"He could destroy us," the Emperor said, and Vader knew, with the certainty that only came from the Force, that Palpatine had foreseen his own destruction. Only his own destruction.

"He's just a boy!" snapped Vader, then hastily added, "Obi-Wan can no longer help him."

Palpatine gave him a long look. "The Force is strong with him. The . . . son of Skywalker must not become a Jedi."

To Vader's horror, the weak, but somehow indestructible, part of himself that he kept shut up in the back of his mind, chose that moment to murmur, I'm right here. He instantly repressed the thought and focused on other, more productive ones.

Vader would find his son -- his, whatever Palpatine thought -- and finish his training. Luke would become a Jedi, though not any kind that the likes of Obi-Wan would recognize.

It would be simpler, he decided, if he could further his own objectives while cooperating with Palpatine. For the moment.

"If he could be turned," Vader said carefully, raising his mask to look directly at the hologram, "he would become a powerful ally."

"Ye-es," Palpatine intoned, "he would be a great . . . asset. Can it be done?"

It would have to be done.

"He will join us or die, Master," Vader assured him, and bowed deeply enough to hide his thoughts.

It was true enough. Luke would, inevitably, die if he remained with his Rebel friends. And Vader had known that Palpatine would never suffer an enemy Jedi to live, even before he said so. The Emperor would demand Luke's death if he did not turn. Yet the last time Vader had spoken to his son, Luke had been a toddling child barely able to lisp their -- his -- name. In all probability, he would not immediately see reason.

Vader could now pursue Luke with the Emperor's knowledge and blessing, but he needed more than that. He needed time.

The Force was murky, but it did, at least, assure him that this problem would resolve itself. He suppressed a flicker of doubt and continued with his plans.

Solo, irritatingly, managed to evade Vader's forces, but it was of no matter. He found their destination, and he reached it before they did. He was not acquainted with Cloud City's present baron-administrator, but they were all much the same, selfish and corrupt. Vader would have little difficulty in managing Lando Calrissian.

Bespin itself was little-known to him; there were rumours of slave-labour, but not yet well-substantiated enough for him to have bothered to crush the colony. Its only notable feature was the enormous carbon-freezing chamber --

Carbon-freeze. Used on animals, mostly, but sufficiently advanced facilities had been known to work on sentients, as well. He'd have to perform a test of some kind, of course, before he risked losing his only son to a freezer, but that shouldn't be any trouble. If it was efficacious on humans, then Luke could be as obdurate as he liked. Vader would simply put him in carbon-freeze and take him -- not to the Emperor, though he would say so. To his own stronghold, where he could turn Luke at his leisure.

Of course, first he had to lure him to Cloud City, but he could sense the sharp improvement in his son's abilities. If his friends were in pain, Luke would know it. And if he remotely favoured the people his parents had been, he could no more stay at a safe distance while they suffered than he could swim.

Those friends were headed straight towards Vader even as he planned. How . . . fortuitous.

In the event, however, their meeting was -- less than fortuitous. His plan worked well enough, certainly. The Wookiee's and the smuggler's agony provided effective lures, and the carbon-freeze worked perfectly well on Solo. Vader's son sprang the trap as he had expected.

Luke didn't recognize him, of course, and attacked him on sight -- also as Vader had expected. It seemed an excellent way to test Luke's ability, so he permitted the fight to continue for some time. Luke, he determined, was powerful, resourceful and talented, but still very young -- in more than years -- and half-trained, at best. At the same age, he had been a warrior for half a decade.

Vader could have ended the duel at any time. Instead, he gradually fought Luke onto the gantry, where retreat would soon send him tumbling into an abyss. If his son could not be convinced to join him, or forced into the carbon-freeze, then Vader would be obligated to end his life. It would be -- most regrettable, but not nearly as regrettable as permitting him to leave Cloud City as a personal enemy of the Emperor rather than a potential apprentice. Palpatine would find him, and once he did, Luke's life would be short and his death long.

Vader very much hoped it would not come to that.

Luke glared at him with a hatred that, in other circumstances, would have been surprising. It was even hotter and deeper than the princess', strong enough to send the Dark Side flowing through him, and he would need it. Nevertheless, there was something inexplicably unpleasant about it, even before it gave Luke the power to break past Vader's defenses for a moment, and stab him in the shoulder.

It was the first time in their encounter that anything had happened that he neither expected nor planned, and the first time in years that Vader had suffered injury to anything but his mechanical limbs. He had almost forgotten that he had any flesh left to be injured.

Without a moment's hesitation or thought, his lightsaber lashed out, and Luke screamed.

It was only then that he registered the strange, agonizing sensation in his shoulder as pain, and realized that he had just sliced off his son's hand. This, too, was regrettable, and he suspected had just narrowed his options considerably.

He vaguely realized that the lightsaber he had just sent flying into the bowels of the chamber was, in fact, his own. He would have to retrieve it later. For now, Luke had been effectively rendered incapable of further resistance.

Vader explained the situation as much as was possible. He was Luke's father, he intended to rule the galaxy with him. Luke could join him willingly, or be taken to the carbon-freeze, or fall to his death.

Luke chose death -- or rather, what he thought was death. As soon as he jumped, Vader knew the fall would not kill him.

The uttermost necessity that he had so dreaded had fallen upon him. He had to kill his own son. It would be quite simple, take only a small, brief effort to reach out and crush Luke's throat or heart as he fell. A kinder death, too, than the other that awaited him.

Yet he did nothing. It was as if the flaws that had crippled his old self, that he had kept safely locked up for years, each decided to stage a revolt at the same moment. They rose up in his throat, gripped his limbs, leaving him unable to act, almost unable to breathe.

No, he thought, not my son, and could not bring any part of himself to disagree.

Very well. He did not have the . . . wherewithal to murder his own child. There were undoubtedly more disastrous failings he might have possessed, that he hadpossessed; he would make the best of this one. Now, Luke had just been sucked into an exhaust pipe and -- yes, he would be hanging from a weather vane in a few moments.

Vader left the chamber and strode towards the landing platform, where two aides were waiting.

"Bring me my shuttle," he said shortly, and spent the short journey with his mind fixed on his son. It seemed that Calrissian had double-crossed him, and helped the princess to escape on Solo's ship, only to return for Luke. No matter, the hyperdrive remained inactive; Piett had assured him of that, and he had reason to be both careful and honest.

They could still capture Luke. And the others, of course.

His ship drew close to the floundering Falcon, and Vader felt Luke's presence, muddled but strong.

His breath caught, even through the respirator. "Luke," he said, expecting his son to shut him out of his mind as soon as possible.

Luke's response was instantaneous.

"Father?"

Vader could sense his confusion and exhaustion; that only made it more satisfying, in a way, to hear the title -- for the first time, too. Luke hadn't used it, before.

"Son," he said, unable to keep himself from lingering on the word -- you are my son, my child, **mine** \-- "come with me."

Luke's mind recoiled from his, his bewilderment abating into horror and something reassuringly like fury.

"Luke, it is your destiny," Vader told him.

He felt a flicker of anguish, almost as if it were his own, and steeled himself against it. Luke, too, would do what was necessary to accomplish his fate -- some way or another.

Then, impossibly, the Millennium Falcondisappeared into hyperspace, and there was only silence.


	2. Chapter 2

Luke and Leia stared at the swirling galaxy, his arm slung over her shoulder. She drew a sharp breath and released it.

"I'll have to meet with General Madine," Leia said. "I don't even know how long it's been since . . . I escaped Hoth, but there must be mountains of work for me to catch up with. When are you going to rejoin Rogue Squadron?"

"I'm not." Luke dropped his arm, walking closer to the viewscreen. He could almost see her eyes following him. "I haven't been back since the attack on Hoth, either. I discovered where I could find a Jedi Master, and I've been training with him the whole time. He was teaching me when I saw what happened on Cloud City. Before it happened."

"You can see the future?" Her voice quickened, making her sound more like herself than she had in -- however long it had been. "But Luke, that could be an enormous asset. Nobody would care that you went off without leave if you came back with that!"

"It's not . . . perfect," he told her. "I can't be sure that what I see will always happen. Yoda -- that's my master -- said I'd destroy everything if I tried to save you, and that didn't happen. Well, I hope it didn't."

"I was destroyed," Threepio said plaintively. Artoo gave a reassuring beep.

Leia ignored them, stepping forward to put her hand on Luke's shoulder. "But you saw what happened to us in Cloud City?"

He swallowed. "Yes."

"So that's why Vader didn't bother -- " She glanced at him and snapped her mouth shut.

"Didn't what?"

Leia only shook her head. "The reports we get from our spies are much more fallible than your visions. We don't require perfect accuracy. Even if they're only right half the time, it'd be so much more than we have now. With the help of your foresight, we might even be able to defeat the Empire!"

Foresight. The Emperor. He has foreseen this, Vader had declared, and Luke hadn't sensed any deception in him. Not then, or -- later.

With an effort, he yanked his thoughts away from later. There'd be time enough for that after Leia left. And on the way to Dagobah. And the rest of his life.

Luke couldn't quite bring himself to meet her eyes.

"Not yet," he said. "The Emperor can do it, too, and he has far more control over it than I do. I only had the one vision by accident -- I can't promise that I'll ever have another. Leia -- " he kept his eyes steadily ahead -- "I'll be able to fight the Empire so much more once I'm a proper Jedi Knight. And I promised Master Yoda that I'd go back and finish my training."

Luke squeezed his eyes shut, the past all but echoing in his ears.

You must not go! Yoda said. If you honour what they fight for and Only a fully-trained Jedi Knight --

The Force is with you, young Skywalker.Vader's voice had inexplicably (ha!) lingered on the name. But you are not a Jedi yet.

Luke opened his eyes. "There's so much I've still got to learn," he said, and his mouth thinned. "Also, there's something I'd really like him to explain to me. I know you must be disappointed -- "

"Someday," said Leia, "you all will realize that you have no idea what I'm feeling."

He started, turning toward her in surprise.

"Luke, listen to me." She caught his face between her hands, forcing him to meet her gaze. "Yes, I'd like you to stay. You are already one of our greatest assets -- you don't need to become some kind of reverse Vader for us."

Luke flinched. "I'm not -- "

"But you have to do what you feel is right. If that's going back to this old Jedi Master and figuring out how to stop blaster bolts with your hand, then do it. I won't be disappointed, all right?" She dropped her hands and dredged up a smile. "I'll even explain everything to the high command and your squadron."

"Thanks, Leia. You're -- thank you." He just managed to return her smile. "Besides, I'd only be here for a few months, anyway. I'm sure Lando will have wormed his way into Jabba's good graces by then."

"It's rather a specialty of his," said Leia.

* * *

This time, Luke managed to land smoothly on dry land, or what passed for dry on Dagobah. He sprang out of his ship, Artoo's indignant beeps trailing after him.

Luke suppressed the urge to skulk in the shadow of his ship. Yoda had told him in no uncertain terms that a Jedi must be as ready to claim his failures as his successes. Even Ben -- Obi-Wan -- had said something about that.

He took a deep breath, opening his mind to the flow of the Force. He wasn't very good at it yet, but he could sense a low murmur of life across the swamp. It was soothing, now, and after a moment he felt that he had enough strength to hold the pieces of himself together. Maybe.

Luke squared his shoulders and headed towards Yoda's house. There was no sign of Obi-Wan, but as he approached the hut, he saw a small green figure hobble out the front door, eyes narrowed in his direction.

Luke's steps faltered, but he forced himself to move one foot in front of the other, until he stood before his master. He just managed to bow, his thoughts so empty, or crowded, that any words he might have spoken froze in his throat.

"Returned, you have," Yoda said flatly.

"Yes, Master Yoda," Luke replied, feeling every bit the callow, ignorant boy he'd been when he arrived, but couldn't keep himself from adding, "I said I would."

He lifted his eyes from his boots and met Yoda's. The old Jedi Master looked exactly as he had when Luke last saw him, before -- Cloud City, but now there was something almost approaching sympathy in his gaze. Perhaps he already knew what had happened. Hadn't he once said something about watching Luke his entire life, through the Force? No reason for him to stop now. Unless he was affected by the miasma of the Dark Side, like Obi-Wan.

Not like me. Battling the Dark Lord, even losing to him, hadn't made him weaker. He just wasn't good enough. And for one moment, when he'd struck out wildly and -- somehow -- managed to stab his enemy, he'd even felt stronger.

"Hm," said Yoda, and turned back into the house, gesturing for Luke to follow him. "Saying is not doing. Expect to see you again, we did not. Not as yourself."

Join me, and together we can rule the galaxy. Even the involuntary memory, it seemed, couldn't help but censor the end of that sentence out.

"Well, I am." His flicker of bravado faded and he knelt before the table, ducking his head to avoid the low-hanging ceiling. "Mostly."

"Hm!"

Luke had meant to work up to the subject of the duel, and what had followed it. It'd be easier. More sensible, too: he wasn't foolish enough to think that Yoda could ever be caught off-guard, but he might be less so if they were already talking. He just -- Luke felt like he'd been cowering somewhere for days, while a storm howled and shrieked around him.

He couldn't hide from this any more.

Luke waited until Yoda faced him, and said, "Master Yoda. Is Darth Vader my father?"

He already knew. He'd felt it. But Jedi powers could affect the mind, and maybe Vader had -- had done something to him. Beside lop his hand off. Maybe -- he had to be sure.

Yoda's face went blank, then he turned swiftly to his rootleaf stew.

"Tired, you look. Very tired. Rest, you need. Yes! Rest."

Luke stared at him. Several long moments seemed to pass almost in a daze, and then all of his horror rushed back, crowding everything else out. "Yoda," he said desperately, "I must know."

Yoda's shoulders slumped. "Your father, he is."

Luke recoiled back.

"Told you, did he?" asked Yoda, his voice bewildered enough to draw Luke out of his absorption in his own concerns.

"Yes."

Yoda hadn't known? If he hadn't seen that, what had he seen?

The old Jedi looked as upset as Luke had ever seen him, eyes downcast and head shaking. He jerked around, stirring his stew, still muttering to himself.

"Master? What is it?"

"Unexpected, this is," Yoda said. "Unfortunate."

Luke's head snapped up. "Unfortunate that I know the truth?"

Knew the truth from Vader, Luke thought. From his father.

He didn't know what to think about anyone anymore. There was Leia, of course. Han, frozen in time. But they weren't part of this world Luke had stumbled into, like Obi-Wan and Yoda and Vader. They couldn't guide him. But Yoda had deceived him. Obi-Wan had lied to him. Vader had at least made his intentions clear; he wanted Luke as some kind of . . . of dark apprentice, to help him remove his last obstacle to ultimate power. That was all he wanted, not --

Together, he'd said, the mechanical voice ringing with sincerity. As father and son.

Luke squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn't think about that.

"No," Yoda was saying, sounding more exhausted than Luke had ever heard him. "Unfortunate that you rushed to face him, that incomplete was your training. Not ready for the burden were you."

He put two bowls of rootleaf stew on the table.

"Eat!" he commanded. "Hungry, you are."

Luke managed one swallow.

"Master," he said, ignoring Yoda's long-suffering sigh, "how could I ever have been ready for this? How can I -- "

The stew nearly came back up. Luke set his spoon down, unable to keep his mind from leaping all around, from Vader to Obi-Wan to his previous training to the warnings he'd received from all of them. He didn't even know what to protest first.

After several minutes of silence, broken only by Yoda's slurping, he finally managed to bring his thoughts into some kind of order.

"Why didn't you expect him to tell me that I'm his son?" Luke said, with an effort. "I'm pretty sure that was the point of -- everything."

Yoda was already shaking his head. "The Force is strong with you," he said simply.

"Yes, but -- "

"With all your family," Yoda added. "A powerful apprentice, you could be."

"I suppose," said Luke, knowing he must sound like a sulky child, "but I still don't see why it's so strange that he'd tell me."

Yoda scowled at him. "Once a Jedi starts down the dark path, forever it dominates his destiny. Anakin Skywalker? Ha! That man is gone. Swallowed by the Dark Side. Only Darth Vader lives now, and an abomination he is."

He struggled to his feet, pouring himself another generous helping of stew. "The man that was your father -- long forgotten, he is. What that man defended, loved, fought for, Vader cares nothing for! He has destroyed it all. To acknowledge you . . . hm! There are many uses to which he could put you. Few required this."

Luke gave him a sharp look. "It's not what you foresaw, is it?"

"No. That future, at least, will not come to pass."

He'd guessed as much already, and told Leia so, but even so, the sharp dread in Luke's chest relaxed a little. "Did I -- follow him?"

Yoda nodded. "Turned to the Dark Side, you did. Or died. Nothing else did I see, yet -- lucky, we have been." He squinted at Luke. "We cannot expect such luck again. Finish your training, you must."

Dark, or dead. Wasn't that what Vader had told him? That Luke would join him, or die? He'd practically begged him -- don't make me destroy you.

But it hadn't happened. If Vader wanted him dead, he would have died. Even Lando had said something about it, when he came to the medcenter to properly introduce himself. Why did Vader let you go? They'd even checked him for bugs, just to make sure it wasn't part of another trap.

I don't know. I don't know anything, Luke had replied, groggy and confused from the anaesthetics, but it was just as true now. He didn't understand any of it. After all of his crimes, why had Vader balked at filicide? Why had Obi-Wan lied to him? Why --

It didn't matter, he told himself. He'd do anything to keep from turning into his father. He had to.

"Yes, Master," he said.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, while Yoda was still asleep, Luke wandered off to meditate by himself. He hadn't done it since he'd left.

Last week, he thought in some amazement, and tried to put the feeling away.

It only took a few minutes before he sensed the familiar, boundless presence of the Force, clustered brilliantly around him. Luke blinked, struggling to see past himself. There. Just on the edges of his vision, he glimpsed a few shining threads, spinning out from the tangled web that always seemed to surround him.

There was Yoda, bright and clear, even in sleep. The swamp, dimmer, chaotic. Artoo, trailing discreetly behind him. Something shadowy in the distance -- far, very far now, but easier to sense than nearer, brighter sparks.

The Dark Side? It had felt different at Bespin -- close, of course, but amorphous too, like a great smothering mass. This seemed cleaner, somehow, an orderly, calculated menace that almost reminded him of Yoda and Obi-Wan.

Oh! Just Father then. He almost snickered at the thought, or vomited, but instead he pushed it, too, out of his mind, as far as it would go. If Vader was his father -- sinceVader was his father, that tie would always be there. He just had to remain . . . unreceptive. Not like he'd been on the Falcon, confused, shivering, helplessly responding to his father's call.

But that wouldn't happen again. Not once he understood everything. He just had to stay away until the rest cleared itself up.

"That would be wise, Luke."

He yelped and fell over, the Force slipping out of his grasp. By the time Luke managed to scramble to his feet and glare in the direction of the voice, Obi-Wan Kenobi had already materialized on a nearby stump.

"It's nice to see you too," he said, scowling. "Yes, my hand's coming along nicely. Thanks for asking. And how is the Netherworld treating you?"

"Quite well," said Obi-Wan.

Luke gave up. "Obi-Wan, why didn't you tell me? You told me Vader betrayed and murdered my father!"

"Your father was seduced by the Dark Side of the Force," Obi-Wan replied, as steady and imperturbable as ever. He met Luke's eyes without a moment of hesitation. "He ceased to be Anakin Skywalker and became Darth Vader. When that happened, the good man who was your father was destroyed."

Luke stared.

"So what I have told you was true -- from a certain point of view."

"A certain point of view?" Luke cried. He gave his old mentor a derisive look and turned away.

After what had happened at Cloud City, he didn't think he could be placated by any explanation Obi-Wan might offer. But he had at least thought there would be one.

"Luke," Obi-Wan said, "you're going to find that many of the truths we cling to depend greatly on our own points of view."

Luke fell speechless. He didn't even dare glance back. Rage is a path to the Dark Side, he chanted at himself. Rage is a path to the Dark Side. Rage --

He could feel the ghost's eyes on him, studying him. Then Obi-Wan said, "I don't blame you for being angry."

Don't **blame** me -- !

"If I was wrong in what I did, it certainly wouldn't have been for the first time." Finally, something other than calm or resignation coloured his tone. Regret, and something more. Grief. Loathing. Self-loathing. Luke couldn't look at him, not yet, but he listened.

"You see, what happened to your father is my fault." Obi-Wan gave a sigh, and added wistfully, "Anakin was a good friend."

Luke couldn't help himself. He turned back towards him, sitting on a stump, and listened eagerly.

"When I first knew him, your father was already a great pilot," Obi-Wan said, "but I was amazed at how strongly the Force was with him. He couldn't have been much more than fourteen, and already he had more power than many of the greatest Jedi." He shook his head. "No idea how to use it, of course."

It all sounded so -- innocuous, Luke thought. So much like him. He closed his eyes, drawing a deep, shuddering breath.

Something nudged his knee and Luke glanced down. Artoo, abandoning all attempt at subterfuge, had joined him and was now emitting reassuring beeps. Luke managed a weak smile.

"Thanks," he said, resting his hand on the droid's dome, and turned back to Obi-Wan. "What happened? How was it your fault?"

"I took it upon myself to train him as a Jedi," Obi-Wan said heavily. "I thought I could instruct him as well as Yoda."

Luke's eyes widened. "Yoda wanted to train him?"

"The Jedi were in a rather -- singular position at the time," said Obi-Wan. "We had been driven underground by the Empire, many years before, when I was still a young man. Most of us lived in the open, hiding our loyalties behind normal careers in the military, as I did. Yoda, however, advocated leaving the Empire entirely, and dedicating ourselves to the Force. His students were -- not soldiers."

"Wars not make one great," Luke murmured.

"Exactly. It was not a popular sentiment, even then, and few sought him out. Even fewer were accepted. But when I discovered Anakin, Yoda offered to train him. He felt very strongly that Anakin should be kept out of the Empire, and even more strongly that he should be taught to serve the Force alone. I was convinced, however, that Anakin's potential should not be wasted on useless mysticism, that I knew better than my old master."

Luke flinched.

"I was wrong. But the other masters agreed with me, and I was chosen to instruct him. I brought him to Alderaan and taught him about duels, battles, war, tactics. Everything I knew. He was a good student," Obi-Wan added somberly. "He learned."

He stared at his glimmering hands. "By eighteen, he was a fierce, brilliant warrior, and I was . . . so proud of him. Of myself. I paid no attention to his dissatisfaction, his distaste for much of what I taught him. He was young; it would pass, and I could feel that something terrible was going to happen. I knew he would need every skill at his disposal."

"And then he turned to the Dark Side?" Luke asked blankly. Obi-Wan laughed.

"Oh, no. Then the wars came."

Luke felt foolish. Even back on Tatooine, he'd heard of the Clone Wars, and knew what it meant that Obi-Wan and Anakin had fought in them: they were heroes.

"It was customary for a new Jedi to be mentored by his former master. So even then, we were still together, and I was still teaching him. He had so much left to learn." Obi-Wan shook his head. "Well, the fighting dragged on. Anakin had always detested anything that smacked of chaos or corruption, and we saw little else. The battles grew more brutal, and Anakin -- he loathed the wars, the court, the government, everything. Before he fell, he wanted nothing more than to save the entire galaxy, to put it right."

We can end this destructive conflict, and bring peace and order to the galaxy.

Luke swallowed. "What happened?"

"He was already devastated by the war," Obi-Wan said slowly. "He had become harsher, more ruthless, in his determination to end it, furious that for all his strength in the Force, he didn't have the power to do so. Many of our fellow Jedi had died, including his wife, and he had . . . "

With a rush of horror, Luke understood.

". . . a child to worry about. If my mother was dead, I must have been born by then. I must have been there, with him."

Obi-Wan nodded. "The wars, ending the wars, became an obsession with him. I was exposed as a Jedi and forced to flee, but he had learned his lessons. He continued to win battle after battle, and so was sent to win more of them. The HoloNet hailed him as the hero of the Empire."

Beeping mournfully, Artoo rocked back and forth. Luke felt sick.

"Anakin had none of the knowledge that Yoda would have given him," Obi-Wan said, his voice thick with remorse, "that Yoda gave me. I never thought to pass any of that wisdom on to him. I taught him war, and I taught it well, and in the end it broke him. He fell under the sway of the Dark Side, and . . . "

"It destroyed him," said Luke. "That's what Yoda told me."

Obi-Wan gave a brief, pained nod.

Luke wished he knew what to say to him. I'm sorry, but that didn't mean much. The entire galaxy was sorry. He could offer forgiveness, but that didn't seem right either. Obi-Wan had apologized for what he had done to Anakin, not Luke, and Luke didn't exactly see Anakin forgiving him in the near or distant future. Vader. Whoever he was.

"Well, it won't destroy me," Luke said finally. "I'm here with Master Yoda, and I'm going to learn everything he has to teach me. And I won't fall."

* * *

Yoda's teachings had never involved the lightsaber, and he didn't seem to care that Luke didn't have one now.

"Weapons not bring one closer to the Force," he scoffed, and told Luke to stand on his right hand.

"There isn't a hand any more," Luke told him, dropping his gaze.

"My old eyes deceive me?"

"It's a prosthetic, like . . . it's not real."

"Hm!" said Yoda. "Then stronger now, it should be."

Luke sighed and flipped his body into the air, reaching out to the Force as he landed. He instantly felt it wrapped around him, no clearer than it had been this morning. He didn't need to worry about any visions today, at least.

"Feel the Force around you," Yoda ordered. "Around the plants, the animals. In the earth. Connecting everything. Even your friend here."

Luke grinned. "Sorry, Artoo," he said, focusing on the little droid. Artoo floated into the air, beeping indignantly all the while, and Luke tried to keep some part of his mind fixed on them both, even as he moved his attention to nearby rocks and frogs. He felt stretched thin, perhaps as much from Obi-Wan as from this, and didn't dare reach further.

Yoda had been right about the prosthetic. It seemed scarcely to feel his weight. The muscles in his arm trembled, but Luke only registered the sensation without much feeling it. He let himself fall deeper into the convoluted web, watching it spread further and further out, binding him to the rest of the galaxy.

Artoo. Three frogs. Seven stones. Only a little further off, Yoda, shining in the Force. Luke's ship. Maybe he'd be able to lift it next time. Father, dark, focused, sharp: so far and so close. Luke moved on to the most mundane object he could find. A hydrospanner in his supply box. Grease smeared its handle.

Luke looked further. There was a vine wrapping around a tree, perhaps a hundred feet behind him. The cave that marked his first great failure, shadowed and malevolent. Beyond them all, an impenetrable emptiness, illuminated only by an occasional, half-familiar glimmer. He might even been able to study it, if he hadn't exhausted his energy on other matters.

Reluctantly, Luke withdrew back to himself. The parts of his mind that attended to the here and now were swiftly tiring; he closed his eyes and sent the droid, frogs, and rocks drifting back towards the ground, releasing his grip on them. With one last burst of energy, he dropped down himself, falling back on the flesh hand.

The Force stayed with him for another moment, but it was dimmer than he remembered from the morning, and he felt less entangled in it than cocooned. Then it faded away, and Luke was blinking into twilight.

Luke glanced around wildly. "Master Yoda? What happened?"

"Heh, the usual," said Yoda, and smacked him with his cane.

"Ow!"

Yoda cackled. "Better, today," he said. "Now, time for dinner it is, and then sleep, and tomorrow -- tomorrow, you will practice again."

"Again?" Luke cried. "But, Master -- "

"Again! Again, and again, until mastered yourself, you have. Only then can you learn what you must know." He permitted himself a small smile. "But for now, good rootleaf stew you have earned, and rest."

"Thanks," said Luke, and stumbled after him.


	4. Chapter 4

The next day was very much the same, as was the one after that. On the fourth, however, the Force's grip on him seemed a little less overwhelming. He didn't feel engulfed in it, merely lost. However distantly, he could tell something lay beyond the apparent chaos, just something so incomprehensibly complex and convoluted that he couldn't begin to understand it.

It wasn't much of an improvement, he thought, slumping against against a tree -- he'd been so tired by the time he was done that it took him a full thirty seconds to pull himself back into reality. But at least it was something.

After a week, Yoda's various gravity-defying demands had become as routine as training with his squadron had once been, and not appreciably more difficult. Back on the Death Star, he hadn't known what Obi-Wan meant, but now he understood. Even when he couldn't sense the Force, it was there. It would always be there.

In fact, he was almost reluctant to reach for it. That, too, had grown easier with time, but it was growing progressively harder to let go of it. Even as he lost fewer hours to meditation, it took him longer and longer to climb back to reality. He hadn't even noticed at first; thirty seconds didn't mean much. But last time it had been five minutes, and the time was only growing.

Had this ensnared his father? Vader, Luke felt certain, never released the Force at all. Had he reached for more, and more, until he demanded more than it would give him?

Yoda insisted not. He said it was a good sign that Luke struggled to return, that it meant he was growing more in tune with the Force.

"I don't want to be too much in tune with it," he said, and Yoda scoffed.

"Impossible!"

On the eleventh day, he stood on his thumbs and saw Leia. It wasn't like before -- or rather, it was exactly like before, but neither horrible nor urgent. She was simply greeting an elegant, auburn-haired woman in a white robe, who returned the salutation with restrained affection. Then they vanished.

Artoo lurched in the air, beeping all the while, but Luke's disorientation only lasted a moment, this time. He managed to keep everything suspended around his feet, and didn't move until his mind grew tired.

He stopped counting days after that.

Yoda continued to set him superhuman tasks. He jumped to the top of a tree, or thirty feet into a valley. He ran through the swamp so quickly that he shouldn't have been able to see anything but a blur, yet everything around him looked sharp and clear. He levitated himself into the air to meditate, much to the relief of his droid. None of it was easy, but he couldn't call it a challenge, either. It just was.

All the while, he felt the Force pulsing around him. Sometimes, he felt it even when he wasn't using it -- he'd be listening to Yoda, or talking to Artoo, or eating breakfast, and the now-familiar awareness would spring into his mind. He would sense everything around him, every strand binding them to each other and to him, and a quarter-second later it'd be gone and he'd have rootleaf stew in his mouth.

Yoda scolded him often and praised him occasionally, but he seemed largely approving of it all. Obi-Wan, when he showed up, appeared almost optimistic.

Visions -- if the snippets that passed before his eyes could be so termed -- came and went. He never saw anything very important, though nothing irrelevant either. A bounty hunter presented Han to an enormous Hutt: the infamous Jabba, Luke assumed. Leia argued with General Madine, slamming her hand on a table. Lando, his face half-concealed, bowed to a tall male Twi'lek.

They didn't tell him anything he couldn't have guessed already. It was reassurance, he supposed: Han was in Jabba's palace, Leia was Leia, and Lando was in place. Everything was going according to plan. But it seemed rather a waste, to be clairvoyant and see only what he already knew. He should be able to do more.

He had never tried to see anything. He didn't know how. But he knew it was possible. Yoda had foreseen more than a trivial flash of the future, when Luke went to Cloud City. Apparently, so had the Emperor.

Early one morning, Luke walked off with Artoo -- in the general direction of the cave, though he didn't dare approach it. He glanced down at the soggy ground and sat in the air, folding his legs and letting his hands rest on them.

He could already feel the Force blazing in him -- flowing, Obi-Wan and Yoda said, but it had never been like that for Luke. For him, it was fire. Had it been like that for his father?

I could ask.

He recoiled at the thought and opened his senses further. The Force gathered around him, as vibrant as ever, but it no longer overwhelmed him. It was nothing so crisp and controlled as Yoda's presence, or Obi-Wan's or Vader's, but neither was it the wild tangle that had surrounded him originally. There was a coherency to it now, a discipline that sufficed to keep it in order -- barely.

He still didn't know how to do much, Luke realized. Physical feats, yes, that kept him connected to the Force. He'd largely controlled his senses and reflexes. Beyond that, there was only levitation.

He stifled the voice that told him Yoda would have taught him more, if he were ready. Yoda was always talking about control, how he must do nothing without it. These bursts of prescience might be inadvertent, but they were exactly the kind of thing he was talking about. He had to stop them, or teach himself to control them. It wouldn't be easy, of course -- he understood that now. It was just necessary.

How had he felt when the other visions came? Calm, but a little bored, worrying about his friends and the future. Of course it would be more complicated than that, but he replicated the feeling as much as he could, tamping down the restlessness that never seemed to leave him, letting his mind drift to the future. Perhaps he'd get some idea, anyway, of what he should do --

Luke, all in black, stood on the bottom step of a raised platform, looking out at several thousand people. He didn't recognize most of them, but he saw a number of Rebels, along with the auburn-haired woman from before, and at least one man he could have sworn was an Imperial.

Leia was also standing apart from the crowd, just a few feet in front of him. She seemed unlike herself in about every way: her gown was stiff, ornate, and deep red, her hair long and plain, her eyes wide. Behind them, he saw a throne made of some dark wood -- stark in its simplicity, but undeniably a throne.

The other, future, Luke began to speak in a language that Luke himself didn't understand. Leia looked like she might be sick.

The real Luke very nearly was when he saw the entire crowd kneel before them. Then a bell tolled, Leia turned to face him, and she, too, fell to her knees.

Luke squeezed his eyes shut, as if that could erase the vision from existence. He knew before he opened them again that he would see only the Dagobah swamp.

He hadn't so much as twitched in the air. Luke stared blankly ahead, not even tired, and unable to congratulate himself on either success.

* * *

After that, visions came more quickly and more readily, whether Luke sought them or not. They were always of some point in the future -- some point in motion, as he often reminded himself. He'd stopped Yoda's visions from coming true. He could stop his own, too.

None of the others, at least, were quite so bleak. Not as far as he could tell. Neither were they so readily comprehensible; half the time, he didn't even know what he'd seen. Sometimes he wondered if he'd just fallen into daydreams -- he knew he'd fallen asleep once or twice.

After all, he felt reasonably certain that Jabba the Hutt wouldn't be killed by a bolt of lightning.

Luke continued his usual exercises with Yoda, or what passed for usual with Yoda, but his divided attention earned him more than a few bruises.

"I'm sorry," Luke said, rubbing his shins.

"Ha! Sorry you are not, or pay attentionyou would!"

"No, I -- " Luke only hesitated a moment. "A few days ago, I tried to see the future, and now I can't stop. I'm seeing things all the time now. I really am trying to concentrate, Master, but it's like my head is about to split open."

Yoda, clearly preparing for a longer lecture, stopped, one of his ears twitching.

"A few days? And nothing you said?" He stared up at him, punctuating the words with taps of his cane against the ground, and Luke could tell that he was anything but displeased.

"I thought it might . . . pass," Luke protested. "I just tried the once. But it's getting worse."

"Not worse," said Yoda. "Better."

Luke stared.

"Many things are possible, with the Force. Many. But -- " he waved his cane -- "this may come more easily to one, that to another. All are different, all have different strengths." Yoda gave him a piercing look, then his eyes seemed to drift to something over Luke's shoulder. "An affinity, Obi-Wan had, for sensing the motives of others. His student Qui-Gon, for understanding the Force. Many of mine, for healing."

"You mean . . . " Luke struggled to wrap his mind around it. He knew he was strong in the Force. Everyone had said so -- even Yoda, once or twice. Even his father. But it had always been such a struggle to learn anything. He hadn't thought -- "You're saying I have some kind of -- of gift for this?"

Yoda's eyes swivelled back to him. "A gift, yes, yes." Then he sighed. "Not surprising is this."

Luke didn't need to ask what that meant.

"It's like somebody flipped a switch in my brain," he said instead.

"Ha! You did." Yoda considered him for a moment. "Foresight, hm? A dangerous gift, it is. Most dangerous of all, perhaps. Difficult to control. But control it you must."

"I know, Master," said Luke tiredly. "I've tried, but -- "

"Teach you this, I will." Yoda chortled at his surprised look. "You think I have not learned it? After nine hundred years? Or that nothing new, I would teach you?"

"Well, no -- "

Yoda made himself comfortable on a stump. Luke took this as the message it was and sat.

"Seeing the future, the past -- not uncommon for Jedi is it. For anyone who lets the Force flow through him."

"Like the Emperor?"

Yoda nodded. "Yes. Sees much, he does -- but not as much as he thinks. Wary, you must be, of overestimating your knowledge. Never can you see all."

Luke nodded. "Yes, Master."

"Wary you must also be, of permitting your sight to dictate your actions. What you see may be -- or may not."

"Always in motion, the future is?" Luke said, with a faint smile.

"Yes! Always. This is the danger: that you take the future you see as a certainty, and do nothing, or become consumed by it, and think of nothing but avoiding it. You must do neither of these things."

Luke frowned, puzzled. What was the point, if -- "I don't understand," he admitted. "If we're not supposed to accept our visions orreject them, why do we have them at all?"

"Said that, I did not." Yoda's eyes slid half-shut, his face softening. "Guides, they are. What we see is likely to happen, but may not. You must neither close to your mind to other possibilities, nor to those which you see. Let them help you, not overwhelm you. Understand?"

Luke chewed his lip. "I -- I think so," he said. "It's like other information, I guess? It's ridiculous to ignore your own advantage, you just have to be careful."

"Careful, yes. And especially you." Yoda fixed a sharp eye on him. "Visions come to all with any strength in the Force. But yousought them. You continue to seek them."

He opened his mouth to protest.

"No excuses do I require! Intentional it may not be. Not important. With the Force, once you start down a path, forever you stay on it."

Luke gulped.

"You wished to see more than the will of the Force showed you, yes?"

"Well, I -- " He dropped his eyes, ashamed. I brought this on myself. "Yes."

Yoda gave a small shake of his head, but it seemed less exasperated than -- amused? Luke didn't understand, but he'd long ago given that up, when it came to Yoda's sense of humour.

"Understand this, I do."

"What?"

Yoda chuckled. "Think that nine hundred years old, I have always been? No. Proper it is, for a Jedi to wish to further his abilities. Dangerous! And now you suffer the consequences. But proper. And now you must learn even more control."

"I was trying to control it," Luke said.

"Hm, told yourself that, you did? Heh." Without a pause, he continued, "You opened yourself to the future. Now the future will make itself known to you, but you have not the focus or knowledge to find what you seek. You have learnt to open your mind, but you must learn to close it, too. And you must learn to open it further."

With a decided effort, Luke managed not to drop his head into his hands. "Further? But anything more -- "

"Have I not spoken of the past? Of other places, other people, in the present? Certain knowledge this is, not like foresight. But never do you think of it. Always the future it is with you!" This time, the shake of his head was anything but amused. He added pointedly, "Just like your father."

Luke winced. But the old fascination still pulled at him, and in many ways, the new horror augmented, even justified it. He fought with himself for a moment, then glanced up at his teacher. "He told you what he saw?"

Yoda's ears drooped. "What he saw? No. Only that he had. Came to me for advice, he did."

"Advice," Luke repeated blankly. He imagined Vader sitting across from Yoda, asking him what to do, and almost broke down laughing. "Did he, um, take it?"

"Impossible to say. Never saw him again."

It took a moment to sink in. Then Luke's mirth died instantly.

"Said he'd seen something terrible. For the galaxy and for him, for his family. He talked of chaos spreading without end." For a moment, the regret that seemed to have taken up permanent residence on Obi-Wan's face passed across Yoda's. "The duty of the Jedi it was to stop such things, I told him."

"And he believed it?" Luke asked, but he already knew the answer. Of course he had.

He still believes it.

"Perhaps." Yoda struggled to his feet. "This is why you must learn. Learn to think of the present, the past. Learn to judge the future properly."

Luke only nodded.

This, he thought, was his destiny. Not killing his enemies, as they all seemed to think. Anybody could do that. His father had, and it'd destroyed him. But not before he'd passed his gifts and hopes on to his son. Anakin Skywalker might have fallen beyond all redemption, but Luke would redeem his legacy.


	5. Chapter 5

Darth Vader was most seriously displeased.

Unfortunately, he could not simply execute the object of his displeasure. Yet.

He sensed Luke occasionally, shining in the Force with all the stability of their native suns, but he had not found him. By all reports, nobody had found him. He seemed to have disappeared off the face of the universe.

That Vader had company in his failure did nothing to reconcile him to it.

Neither did the Emperor's new plan, which was exactly the same as his old plan -- turning planets into rubble until his Empire was either compliant, destroyed, or both.

Palpatine was a fool, he raged, and worse: a fool with nigh unlimited power. If he wanted to build a dozen of these . . . Sun Crushers, he could. If he managed to garner the necessary resources. And cut the stormtroopers' pay by three-quarters.

This, too, would not have the Death Star's flaw in its design -- though knowing Palpatine, it would have another, equally exploitable one. Vader could not be certain; the Emperor had not chosen to inform him about this project, which he had discovered through -- alternate means.

Even if he had his own copy of the schematics, however, they would be of little use. It was the Death Star all over again; he had to be free to act when the right moment came. Any visible interference from him would be tantamount to treason; in all likelihood, would be treason. And everything he did was visible; Obi-Wan had ensured that much.

Yet neither could he expect the Rebellion to step in, as they had with the Death Star; they didn't even know of its existence, and of course he would never betray the Empire to them.

Vader paused. No, not the Empire. He had served it faithfully for almost thirty years and could not imagine betraying it. But Palpatine had proved himself vastly unworthy of his charge. He had authorized the murder of billions of his own subjects for no reason except to instill fear in the rest. He had failed to bring any kind of order to the galaxy and never seemed to feel the slightest interest in doing so. Vader suspected he found the endless conflict amusing.

Palpatine did not deserve his position as Emperor, and he did not deserve his strength in the Force. It would be a decided pleasure to betray him, if it were possible, even to the Rebels. His weaker self could protest all it liked.

He paused, expecting the usual petulant complaints about loyalty and decency, and was met only with silence. That cringing, pathetic, sanctimonious side of himself had no objections whatsoever.

Interesting, if irrelevant.

Vader could easily think of any amount of intelligence which would do no more harm in Rebel hands than in corrupt Imperial ones -- and it was an unfortunate fact that, outside of his present crew, most of his colleagues in the Empire came only in varying degrees of corrupt and incompetent. And while war did not amuse him, the idea of the Rebels and the Emperor furthering Vader's plots against them both, and thereby assisting in their own destruction, did have a certain appeal.

Unfortunately, it would never be more than a pleasant idea, unless he could find a way to leak information to the Rebellion -- nothing critical, of course, only nonsensical projects such as these, whose failure would be for the Empire's ultimate good. It would require a different kind of agent: someone quick, resourceful, unobtrusive, someone trusted by the Rebel command, yet able to communicate with Vader.

Everything, he thought irritably, kept coming back to Luke. Luke, who he could not even find. On the few occasions when Vader did sense him in the Force, Luke kept his mind firmly shielded. His father could not have spoken to him even if he had tried.

Somebody was teaching him, and not what he needed to know.

Vader had to find him again, and not over the two years it had taken him to do it before. And he needed to prevent anyone else from doing so. And even if he managed those things, he then had to present an offer that Luke would not reject on the spot, as he had the . . . other. Something that Luke would find appealing enough to consider cooperating with him.

Vader remembered the Death Star, and thought that might be the least of his problems.

* * *

"What are you doing?"

An Imperial officer, too low in the ranks for Luke to recognize, jumped and turned his computer station off.

"Forgive me, I was just -- " He glanced up and all but sagged in relief. "Oh, it's just you, Jirod."

Jirod didn't seem much mollified by this greeting. "Skywalker, again? Didn't you hear Lord Vader say that he doesn't want us wasting any more time on him?"

"The Emperor still wants him. My cousin Radn -- "

"Your cousin's an idiot," said Jirod, "and so are you, if you're thinking about disobeying an order straight from Darth Vader."

"That's just some Jedi thing," the officer said vaguely.

"So's choking you with his mind, but it doesn't stop him from doing it! Especially not lately. And defying him on his own ship? Janren, are you mad?"

Janren's sharp features settled into an obstinate expression. "The Emperor will reward anyone who brings him the Rebel scum, and I think I've found a lead." He lowered his voice. "I've got a report from an old general; he's retired on some station in the middle of nowhere, and he swears -- "

Luke's eyes flew open.

He still struggled to foresee -- well, just to see other places in the present. His mind felt inexorably drawn towards the unformed potential of the future. But he was learning, and he'd managed it a few times. Enough to recognize the clarity and certainty of the present when he saw it. This wasn't a possible future, or even the most likely of many futures. It had occurred even as he watched, and there was no changing it now.

He flipped onto the ground and raced towards the hut, where Yoda was amusing himself at Artoo's expense.

"Master," Luke gasped.

Yoda glanced up, and Artoo wheeled backwards with an indignant hiss.

"Someone knows where I am! Or will, soon enough. I knew I should have refueled at a different station!"

"Hm," said Yoda. "Seen this, you have? When?"

"Now -- I mean, I saw it now, but it was just happening now, too. I could tell. I -- "

At Yoda's unimpressed expression, Luke cut himself off. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath, forcing his jangling nerves to settle down.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to be . . . I didn't expect anyone would find me here."

"Found you, no one has," Yoda pointed out, eyes briefly narrowing in thought.

"Not yet, but I saw an officer finding something that will lead him to me. An Imperial officer, I mean. One of -- of Vader's."

Yoda's eyes widened in alarm, and something weak and petty in Luke's mind was gratified to see it. So often, his master seemed entirely above ordinary concerns -- even extraordinary ones, at that. But his fa -- but Vader could disconcert even him. Luke repressed the feeling as unworthy.

"Vader! Knows you are here, he does?"

"No." Luke thought back to the conversation he'd -- overheard. "No, he didn't want anyone looking for me. Anyone else, that is. The officer was disobeying him. I think he was going to look for me himself, and . . . try to take me to the Emperor."

Yoda chuckled. "Heh. Failed, he would have, yes? But it matters not."

Luke stifled his instinctive protest. "I don't think a single Imperial could overcome both of us -- " Artoo beeped -- "sorry, all three of us. He didn't seem like he commands any troops, either. But if he does track me here, the information will get out. These things always do."

"Often," Yoda allowed. "Always? No. There is no danger."

He spoke with unmistakable assurance. Still --

"You've seen it? But maybe it's like Cloud City."

Yoda shook his head. "Never certain is it, what will happen. Possibilities only does the Force show us -- and impossibilities. When we are assured of what will not happen . . . that is certain. This man will fail."

Luke still felt a flicker of unease.

"Well -- if you say so," he said doubtfully.

"Hm! Exercises you have to complete, yes?"

"Yes, Master Yoda."

Luke trudged off, remembering when his most onerous obligation had been gathering water in his uncle's fields. It had been miserable work, not like this, but unthinking, too. Two years ago, he would never have imagined that he'd be floating above a swamp, trying to pick out pieces of reality from the mass of sights and sounds that could flood his brain at any moment.

At least he'd learned how to shut them out, even if his control was otherwise painfully fragile. That had taken a week, a week he'd spent all but locked into the Force. He'd practically gotten used to seeing double by the end of it. This was the first day he'd done anything else -- which would have been a relief, except that Yoda had taken it into his head that Luke should be able to levitate himself, clear out debris from a recent storm, and sort through visions, all at the same time.

I bet Father could do it perfectly. Probably before he turned fifteen, Luke grumbled to himself, distracted by the multiplicity of tasks, and felt a distant surprise followed by -- amusement?

Father!

He instantly shut down that connection, and everything else, too, feeling like he'd run a race in that single moment. He'd almost forgotten, thought of his father as the impossible paragon Obi-Wan had spoken of.

Of course, his father was Darth Vader. He had been that paragon, once, and now he was just as impressive, in an evil way. It was probably still true.

Luke remembered the duel on Cloud City -- not the revelation that had overshadowed everything else, but the actual duel. More than a duel, really; it'd been like the entire room was trying to kill him.

Definitely true, he thought. Luke sighed and went back to practicing.

* * *

If the Force could smirk, Vader suspected it would be doing so.

He had needed to find Luke; he had been frustrated by his fruitless search. Yet even as he plotted the overthrow of the Emperor and railed against the Sun Crusher in the comparative safety of his own mind, knowing that he could achieve none of his objectives without his son's willing assistance, he felt a certain lack of -- urgency. The Force provided little guidance, but it reassured him that he need not overly concern himself.

Vader did not object to waiting; he had become accustomed to it over the last twenty years. It was one thing to wait for a proper opportunity to act. It was quite another to wait for a situation to resolve itself.

He obeyed his orders from Palpatine, since there was apparently nothing else to do, and simmered.

Then, as he sat in his hyperbaric chamber, breathing the heavily oxygenated air, he heard Luke speak. Not to him, but nevertheless, Vader heard him as clearly as if he were standing beside him.

For a moment, he was motionless with shock, and then he caught a familiar petulant note and, painfully, smiled. Before he could say anything, however, the connection faded back into the usual distant awareness.

Vader's suit gave a discreet beep. He permitted himself one last glance around the sterile white walls before the mask came down, tinting his vision red. He emerged from the pod with considerable more purpose than he had betrayed since Cloud City.

So. Luke did not keep his mind closed to him at all times. Clearly, he had been practicing a comparatively advanced technique, on this occasion, and had simply . . . forgotten. As he continued, he might very well forget again.

It would not provide the contact that Vader needed for his overarching plan, certainly. But it might suffice for his lesser goals; if he were watchful and prepared, he should at least be able to pass information.

Not the Sun Crusher, he decided; not yet. Small, trifling things, of no importance to the Empire and little to the Emperor. Inconveniences -- for his enemies within the Empire. Any number of the grand moffs, for instance, had an unpleasant habit of maintaining private fleets.

It would be . . . impolitic to act against them directly. That was the difficulty of having enemies within the Empire. However, he kept a close eye on their movements, insignificant though they were next to the might of the Imperial Starfleet. They could be no threat to him -- but the presumption annoyed him.

Jerjerrod, Vader remembered, had plans to move a full half of his fleet to the abandoned Rebel base on Dantooine, in what passed for secrecy with him.

He had been particularly irksome this week.

Several days later, when Luke dropped his shields again, Vader was ready. He reached out -- and almost fell into a morass of wild, confused, largely unconnected imaginings. It took him a moment to determine that Luke had not ingested any hallucinogenic substances, purposefully or otherwise, and was instead merely asleep.

All the better.

Seven hours later, and a few dozen light-years away, Luke Skywalker opened his eyes. He stared at the ceiling while his thoughts cleared, then blinked in confusion.

"Dantooine?"


End file.
